


1001 Stories

by thepinballer



Category: Ghost Quartet - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Reincarnation, both of those are kind of, will add more if i write more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinballer/pseuds/thepinballer
Summary: ideas of different timelines. expect the usual ghost quartet murder-ness and drinking-ness





	1001 Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> roisin is brittain spirit, dalaigh is dave spirit, and etain is gelsey spirit

The night sky is filled with stars, and stars become fireflies, and the moon is bright, and Roisin’s lamp is dim. She carefully walks to the shed, the gravel scraping her feet. The cool dirt floor is a relief as she steps inside. She holds the lamp up to the wall, squinting until she finds an empty hook. The lamp clinks against a small spade as she sets it down and her heart jumps in her chest. Roisin holds a hand to her chest, feeling her beating heart and giving a small laugh at her silly fears. She carefully places her axe on the hook, making sure it doesn’t bang against the stone walls, and wipes her hands on her apron.

 

Roisin picks her lamp back up and quietly exits the shed. She exhales sharply at the feel of the sharp gravel. She quickly makes her way inside, making sure to close the door quietly. She mustn’t wake Etain after all- no, no, the girl needs to rest. Ah, what a darling girl, Etain. She’s going to have a long day tomorrow.

 

Roisin stands in the crowded kitchen, staring at her husband, who is slouched back in his chair. 

 

Poor Dalaigh. 

 

They were in love once. They met on the shore, both young and full of life. Roisin fell quickly in love with his pretty blue eyes and flowery words. Dalaigh would hold her tenderly, and she would press her head against his large chest and tell him pretty words, only to laugh at his quickened heartbeat. They would sit on the hills, and he would clumsily braid her hair with his large hands. It was always messy, and always got tangled up at some point, but she loved it anyways. He made a harp for her, one with pretty roses carved down the side and the words ‘From Dalaigh, Your Love’ along the curve. They were married on the beach where they met, and though it rained, neither particularly cared, as they were too lost in each other’s arms.

 

And then he wandered. Oh, did he wander. To say he wandered away with every woman into every pub in Ireland would hardly be hyperbole. 

 

Ah, but they were in love once, so what could be done about it?

 

Roisin brushes his greying hair back, scrunching her nose up when it sticks to her bloodied hand. It’s amazing how an axe can mar such a handsome face. At least she can finally keep those pretty blue eyes to herself.


End file.
